


Everybody Fucking Hates Hoffman

by ThatgirlnamedEleanor



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: Apprentice!Adam AU, Hoffman is The Worst, M/M, Slow Burn, about as fluffy as you can get with a small murderous cult, adhering closely to the timeline yet bringing a character back from the dead, probably Stockholm Syndrome but who really cares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-03-21 22:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13750545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatgirlnamedEleanor/pseuds/ThatgirlnamedEleanor
Summary: Inspired by some wonderful pieces of art by Tuherrus on Tumblr, this is my Apprentice!Adam AU, featuring the iconic disaster gays duo that is Adam and Amanda, grocery runs, cats in the Jigsaw lair, and very slow burn Chainshipping (we'll get there, I promise). Essentially- what if Amanda had saved Adam rather than killed him, how would this have affected the timeline, and what would have happened between our favourite bathroom boys afterwards? All these questions answered, and more!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this is complete trash :D Tuherrus's art made me realise that Amanda saves Adam/Apprentice Adam was the AU I never realised I needed, and so I have attempted to write it (warning: if you really love Hoffman, this is NOT the fic for you and you will only end up angry. I'm sorry). Updates may be sporadic (as I'm approaching exam season), but I do have the entire story planned out and am really invested in it, so I'll try my hardest to get it finished. One day. At least so that this prologue makes sense. All spelling mistakes/grammatical errors are my fault, please tell me if you find any, and I really hope you enjoy this :D

He was raging, almost snarling in his anger, and the three of them assumed defensive stances automatically in response. Both standing beside the bed, Adam unconsciously moved in front of Lawrence; Amanda, on the other side of the bed, reached sideways- slowly, the way one might move whilst in the presence of a rabid animal- towards the table of power tools.

From the bed itself: “You don't want to do this, Mark.” John’s voice was still weak, almost too weak, but Hoffman’s expression betrayed no sympathy.

Mark Hoffman laughed, and it was short, sharp, and humourless. “You know as well as I do that I don't have a choice.”

“You always have a choice. Always.”

There was a moment when events could have been changed- if Hoffman had just listened. They all felt it hang in the balance, then- as Adam reached back for Lawrence, for one last touch; as Lawrence reached forwards for him in return; as Amanda looked over at both of them for a split second and knew what she had to do. They all watched as, for just a moment, Hoffman looked conflicted.

And then he raised his gun, and the three of them knew it was over.


	2. Murderer's Blankets

It still didn’t quite seem real, none of it- the slimy tiles and aching cold and chafing shackle; the constant smell of metal and rust and blood and the hot tears in his eyes as he sat in the dark and screamed himself hoarse. Oh, it felt real, visceral and raw as a wound, but he couldn’t quite believe that it was happening to him. He only stopped screaming when his throat’s aching became too harsh to bear, and slumped against the wall, sobbing pathetically for a while, before even that became too much of an effort. 

He was sure he was dreaming or hallucinating when the door reopened, certain he'd been imagining the sound of the door scraping open for so long and so intensely that his starving, panicked brain had forced it to become reality. But then the light spilled in. It was still green and low and ghostly but it was  _ something,  _ and bright enough after the hours and hours of darkness that it hurt his eyes. Forced to squint, he barely saw the silhouette of the person who had opened it; certainly, he didn't have a clue who it was but it was  _ someone,  _ finally, and he couldn’t help it- he started crying with relief.

“H- help-!”

“Shh! You need to shut up. I shouldn't be here.” It was a female voice, which was a surprise, and the woman hurried towards him, kneeling down next to his ankle. She reached forwards and even though he knew it was stupid he instinctively jerked away, sure for a second that she, whoever she was, planned to hurt him just like they'd hurt-

“Lawrence?” He croaked out, making it a question. “Is he-?”

“Shut  _ up.  _ And hold still.”

He forced himself to do as she said, aware that he was still shivering as he felt her fingers find the edge of the shackle that circled his ankle. “What- what are you-” he began to ask, before the question was answered for him: there was a click, and then the pressure around his ankle was relieved. The chain was pushed away across the tiled floor with a clatter, leaving a ring of his skin suddenly cold and exposed but mercifully intact.

He blinked for a moment in disbelief. “Fucking hell… thank you! Thank you, thank you- wait. You're not gonna- you're not gonna put me in another one right? Right?!”

She ignored him. “Can you walk?”

“Uh, I- I think so?” He reached sideways, searching blindly for the wall or the pipe- the latter of which he found. He gripped it tightly, and began to shakily pull himself upwards. He'd gotten unsteadily to his feet when a burning, stabbing pain, presumably from his gunshot wound, radiated up the side of his neck and down his arm, causing him to lose his grip. He fell backwards, slipped, and had barely enough time to yell out in sudden terror before the back of his head hit the tiles and everything began to grow hazy.

“Guess that's a no, then.” he heard her say from far above, sounding scared and tired but also just slightly sarcastic. It was this that he latched onto. He was good at very few things, but sarcasm was one of them.

“Thanks again, but also… fuck you.” he replied weakly, his vision already beginning to swim. The last thing he felt before he blacked out was the woman grabbing his ankles and beginning to drag him across the filthy, grime-covered floor, and the last thing he heard was her laughing, just for a second, to herself.

 

* * *

The next time he awoke, he was lying on his back on what felt like a plain mattress, covered only by an unfamiliar blanket, patchworked in squares of blue. He stretched out his fingers, shivering unpleasantly as he felt the coarse fabric of the blanket- but at least it was clean. After the bathroom, anything was an improvement.

And then it hit him-  _ after  _ the bathroom. He was alive. He was okay! Ish. He could feel that his shoulder had been bandaged up and he no longer felt any pain, which was promising, but optimism, like most things, had never been his strong point.

He sat up quickly and looked around, finding he couldn't see the rest of what was clearly a large room that he must be in the corner of- behind him and to his left were cold brick walls, to his right was a pale green curtain on a metal frame, the type you might find around hospital beds, and directly in front was what looked like a large metal bookcase on wheels, rusty and holding everything from piles of paper to neat ordered toolkits to coils of barbed wire. In the gaps between these items and the shelves themselves, he could see a huge rectangular space filled with other shelves, workbenches, and what could possibly be other people or mannequins. It was all concrete and rusted metal, lit by cold artificial lighting.

“Hello?” he called nervously. “Is anyone there?”

“Aha!” he heard from somewhere far away. That same woman’s voice. “You're awake.” she continued, her footsteps echoing as she walked towards his corner of the room. He could see her, once more a silhouette, through the gaps in the metal shelves, and still he didn't recognise her. It was only once she pulled open the curtains with a flourish, towering above him, that he realised-

“Wait. It's you! I saw you! In my building, before- I took your picture!”

She nodded, once, studying him.

“Why were you there? Why are you here now? Where are we?! And- and why did you save me?”

“...Okay, so, which of those do you want me to answer first-?”

“And Lawrence!” And just like that, Lawrence was all he could think about- Lawrence arguing with him; Lawrence smiling at the thought of his daughter; Lawrence from before, blissfully unaware in his fancy suit and car; Lawrence gripping him tightly, holding him close for just a few brief seconds.“Did he get out? Is he okay?! I need to see him!”

“Which-”

“The ones about Lawrence. I need to know.”

She sighed, looking bored. “He's fine. Well, not fine, he's in a coma, but according to John he'll survive.”

Adam had no idea who John was and made a mental note to ask later. “Can I see him?”

She raised her eyebrows slightly. “Can you walk?”

“Yes.” He said, trying not to sound annoyed and failing. “Now that you've dealt with my shoulder. Very nice of you, by the way. Very polite.”

She rolled her eyes. “Follow me. Try not to fall over.”

He made sure to pull himself upright with his non-injured arm and shoulder, feeling much more steady on his feet. When he emerged from the curtain, he finally saw the extent of the room. It was huge, and worrying- almost every surface was covered with weapons, and in amongst the workbenches and blueprints there were various horrific looking contraptions.

“Erm… what the fuck is this?” The woman didn't answer, which only worried him more as she lead him on a winding path past all of it and then through a curtain of plastic strips into a small separate room. “Seriously, all of this looks fucked up-  _ Lawrence!” _

He was there, he was right fucking there! Laying in a dodgy hospital bed, unconscious, and hooked up to an IV drip, but nonetheless he was there- alive. Adam rushed to his side, reaching for his hand before thinking better of it and pulling back. “Larry…”

“He won't respond- can't.” Adam looked back at her and glared. “What? It's true.”

“You could try being a little bit nicer about it.”

“Niceness isn't always the best way. Sometimes you need to be confronted with the shittiness of your situation. Like you both were.”

It took him a moment to figure out what she was talking about, but when he did, he began to get more than a little bit angry. “...You think that the fucking bathroom was a _ good thing?  _ Wait. How did you even know about that? Who the fuck are you?!”

“My name's Amanda. I was helped by him too.”

“Amanda…” That was familiar, somehow… “Wait- he told me about you! You survived.”

“Yeah. I was the first survivor, actually.”

“I'm… honestly not sure if that's something you should be bragging about.”

Amanda didn't answer, turning to her left and rummaging around the contents of a table covered in weapons until she found what looked like a kitchen knife. She began to- for want of a better term- play with it, while Adam grew steadily more frustrated about his condition, Lawrence’s condition, the complete lack of answers he was getting and, in summary, this whole fucking ludicrous situation.

“Look, Amanda- why were you in my building before?”

A pause. “Because I abducted you.”

“Wait, you- what? Fucking why?!”

She turned around, leaning her back against the table, and shrugged, still playing with that knife. “He told me to.”

“You mean Jigsaw?”

“I wouldn't try calling John that. He doesn't like it.”

“Well, forgive me if his fucking feelings aren’t my top priority.”

Amanda looked mildly pissed at that, but said nothing.

“Look… Why did you save me?”

“Because your guy told me to. Dr Gordon.”

That got Adam’s attention. “He was conscious?”

“Oh yeah. Made it surprisingly far. When John found him he'd even thought to cauterise his leg. John dragged him in here and he was manic, delirious, but he looked at me and the first thing he said was ‘save Adam’. Even said please.”

Amidst the insanity of the last ten or so hours this was possibly the only good thing to have happened to him, and so he let it warm his heart for just a second. “Look, can I- can I have a moment alone with him?” A moment of silence. “ _ Please? _ ”

She rolled her eyes, but shrugged. “Sure. Just try not to break anything- maybe just don’t touch anything actually- and, again, just remember, he can’t respond.”

“Great. Wonderful. Thank you so much.”

She didn't reply, instead flashing something that might have been a smile and sauntering away, out of the room. He took one last look as she left, making sure she wasn't about to sneak attack him with an axe or something, and then looked back down at Lawrence, unconscious and possibly oblivious. He looked peaceful, which was a relief.

Adam spotted a desk chair, ripped and unsteady but serviceable, and pulled it next to Lawrence's bed. He sat, and this time, without Amanda's eyes weighing on his actions, he did reach forward and take Lawrence’s hand, holding on tight.

“...Hey, Larry. Lawrence? Fuck, I don't know what to say. It's me! It's Adam. We made it? Don't know why that was a question- we did. Well, you did, more than me; you actually  _ won.  _ I had to be rescued like some stupid damsel.” He laughed slightly, self-deprecating. “Speaking of- where were you? I was expecting my, uh, knight in shining armor…” he trailed off into silence, embarrassed.

It was only when he heard footsteps and the clanking of metal that he remembered they weren't alone. He listened intently for a moment, holding his breath. Luckily, to him it sounded like Amanda’s footsteps were going away from them, and so he turned back, gripping Lawrence’s hand in both of his now.

“Lawrence, listen- I really hope you can hear me, because I need you.  _ Really  _ need you. I think we're in it. In their- batcave? Lair? Whatever- the woman who saved me said she's Amanda- yeah,  _ that _ fucking Amanda, the one you told me about- and she says  _ you  _ were saved by Jigsaw. John. Whoever. I don't think they want to hurt us any more but you never know; I mean, this entire place is full of crazy shit, and I don't know about you but being in Jigsaw’s murder basement isn't high up on my list of cool fun things to do, so… I don't know.” He started to whisper. “We'll have to try and escape, somehow, when you're better. Which I hope is soon. The good news is you didn't fuck me up too badly with that gunshot. I don't think. Not that that matters now, anyway-”

In a sudden, heartstopping movement, Amanda pushed her way back into the room, tense and wide-eyed.

“Jesus, trying to have a moment here-”

“Shut the fuck up, you need to hide!”

Adam blinked. “Where?  _ Why? _ ”

“They’re coming back- I wasn’t supposed to- look, I fucked up, okay? I felt bad and he-” she pointed sharply towards Lawrence- “looked so worried and I thought, fuck it, your test seemed unnecessarily mean so why not save you? But now they’re coming and they can’t see you, they can’t see what I did- hide! Now!”

“Who- Amanda- There’s nowhere  _ to  _ fucking hide!”

“Just-”

At the other end of the gigantic room, they both heard a door slowly, ominously, scrape open, and then two sets of footsteps. Amanda flinched.

“Just- fucking figure something out!” She hissed. “They absolutely can’t see you.”

Adam watched as she steadied herself, and then turned away and walked out. He was left- aside from Lawrence- completely alone.

“Oh shit.” He scanned the room- unless he shoved himself under a table or the bed, which wouldn’t work, there was literally nowhere to go. “Oh shit. Erm. Larry,” he whispered, shaking, “If- if this is it- if they just straight up fucking kill me, I just want to say that I’m glad I met you-”

They were getting closer, three sets of footsteps echoing in the quiet. “John-” Amanda was saying, low and tense, a far cry from the lighthearted sarcasm she’d displayed to Adam, “-I just… I want you to know that I’m- I’m sorry-”

“Whatever for?”

This new voice was deep, and grating, and made Adam hyperventilate. He had to get away. But there was nowhere, the room was enclosed, it was all a fucking dead end-

“You'll- you’ll see…”

They were almost through the curtain now and Adam was frozen in place, unable to move, almost unable to breathe. “I- I’m sorry about the, the stalking.” He found himself saying, knowing there were more important things he could be telling Lawrence if these moments were, indeed, to be his last, but also wanting desperately for Lawrence to understand that he’d never once wished him any harm. “I was paid, it wasn’t my-”

Adam fell silent. John came through the plastic curtain fairly slowly- there was no doubt he was physically weak. But even with that weakness, even in cheap, monochromatic clothes and with bare feet, there was still something about him- an aura of menace, of power. It was the eyes, Adam thought as he swallowed, trying not to scream. They were cold, piercing, predatory- and betrayed no surprise. Behind him came Amanda, cowering like a dog fearing punishment, yet still taking the time to glare at Adam’s clear visibility, and then someone Adam didn't know. He was huge, swaggering- muscular and smug. He smirked as he took in the scene, folding his arms and shifting his weight back onto his heels, like an impatient theatregoer waiting for a play.

“Amanda…” John rasped, and she flinched.

“Wow,” the smug guy said, staring straight at Adam and grinning, “John, would you like me to, uh…  _ deal with  _ Mandy’s mistake?”

Adam felt sick. Still sitting, far below all of them, he could do little more than blink like a rabbit in the headlights.

“I’ve told you not to fucking call me that,” Amanda spat, “and don't-”

“I must warn you, Mark, that if you hurt Adam, there will be consequences. Amanda- you have done well.”

All eyes turned to John, and all contained nearly the same amount of shocked.

Amanda’s voice, when she spoke, was shaky, and painfully hopeful. “I… I have?”

“Yes. Adam's inclusion in Dr Gordon’s game was a test- for you.” He turned to Amanda, who watched him intently, eyes wide. “If you are to carry on my work, you must learn that sometimes, you will make errors. You will test people unfairly, and so you will have to save them- as you did today. I'm pleased with you.”

“But- John,” the man- Mark?- frowned. “He failed. Why should we save him?”

“I don't know, maybe because I'm a fucking person?”

Adam hadn't meant to say that. All eyes were in him now- John’s unreadable, Mark’s disbelieving, Amanda’s quietly impressed. After a moment of silence:

“You're right, Adam.” John said, steely gaze fixed solely on him. Adam, nauseous in his fear, forced himself not to look away. “I'd like to formally apologise for putting you through all that. It was necessary.”

He could think of a lot of things to spit back about how ‘necessary’ it had been but said none of them, still scared shitless. Instead, he said: “Will- will we be able to leave? Me and Law- Dr Gordon? Once he's okay?”

John thought for a moment. “...That remains to be seen. Until Dr Gordon has recovered I must insist you remain here. Amanda-” she perked up, hopeful, “-I’d like you to care for them whilst myself and Mark plan our next game. Adam, I hope you'll consider helping her with daily tasks. And I wish both you and Dr Gordon a swift recovery. Mark, let's go.”

And just like that they were leaving, walking back the way they came. Adam waited, still impossibly tense, for a good minute before he allowed himself to slump in relief. He still took care not to let his guard down completely- Amanda remained, after all. By mutual, unspoken agreement, they waited until they both heard the door screech shut before either spoke a single word. Amanda picked up a nearby axe and swung it a little, seemingly in celebration.

“Fucking  _ hell… _ ” She said, almost gleeful.

“I don't trust this. It can't be that easy.”

Amanda gripped the axe in both hands. “I trust John.”

“Well, that's just fucking fabulous for you, isn't it?”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Look- that was fucking lucky. And, just so you know- I’m pretty sure you’re crushing him.”

Adam looked down, only then realising just how tightly he’d been gripping Lawrence’s hand. His knuckles were white, his entire hand tense. He hurriedly let go, muttering a quick, “Shit, sorry Larry.” He turned to Amanda. “Look- thank you. For saving me, I mean, not for putting me the fuck in there in the first place, I’m still incredibly pissed about that, and will be forever, because honestly no one should have to go through what me and Lawrence-”

“Want to maybe just thank me and leave it at that?” She said, but then her expression softened. “You’re welcome, though. I really did think the whole thing was unfair.”

“Yeah, that’s because  _ it was.  _ On Lawrence, too. Really. No one deserves that.”

Amanda raised her eyebrows, but chose not to comment, starting to walk out and then spinning back around at the last minute. “Hey- if you want some snacks, or water, or anything, there’s stuff in the kitchen- it’s through a door to the left, same as the bathrooms- no, not  _ that  _ one, the normal ones. And you should probably sleep, it’s midnight.”

There was something strange and ridiculous about his former abductor offering him _snacks_ , and he was trying not to laugh when it hit him- midnight. Their game had finished at six o’clock- six hours ago. Depending on how long he was out after Amanda had dragged him from the bathroom, he’d likely been alone in there for at least four hours. He shuddered, but tried to focus on the here and now- he looked back up at Amanda, still just in front of the plastic curtain. “Thanks.”

She nodded, flashed that half smile again, and left.

Adam looked back down at Lawrence once he was sure she wasn’t coming back, studying him for several quiet moments. “We’ll get out of here,” he whispered softly. “You’ll get back to your daughter, and we’ll make these fuckers pay. Promise.” He gave his hand one last gentle squeeze, before slipping out of the room.

Now back in the larger lair, he walked to the left and found, with surprisingly little difficulty, a door- this one just a normal door as opposed to a sliding sheet of metal, covered in flaking white paint and with a large rectangular panel of frosted glass in the middle. Opening it cautiously, he found a disconcertingly normal kitchen, complete with a table and chairs and, as promised, two more doors with ‘male’ and ‘female’ signs on them. Those must be the promised normal bathrooms. It all looked very much like some sort of staffroom- not that he’d been in many of those- and he wondered if it might actually have been one, once. Who knew what this place had used to be? He didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to ask John about it.

He quickly poured himself a glass of water, not at all hungry, surprisingly. When he came back out, he found Amanda perched in what looked like a tiny red bedroom set into the wall, reading a tattered paperback. The cover read ‘Misery - Stephen King’ and was unfamiliar to Adam. She looked up as he passed, on his way to where he assumed he was supposed to sleep- that plain mattress and blue blanket- and said: “You’d better sleep well.”

Adam stopped, looked back at her. “...Why?”

“Because not only did I give you privacy- with the curtain and the shelf- I also gave you my spare blanket.”

Despite himself, Adam laughed, short and shocked. “Well… thanks. Not everyday I get given a blanket by a murderer-”

“Um, excuse me, did I or did I not save your life? There’s only one murderer here, and it definitely isn’t me.” Her expression darkened.

She wouldn’t say that about John, which left- “Are you talking about that guy earlier- Mark?”

“ _ Hoffman.  _ He doesn’t deserve to be referred to by his first name.”

“Why? What did he-” Adam started to say, before it was cut off by a yawn.

“I’ll tell you all about him, but tomorrow. Go. Sleep.” She returned to her book, and Adam, after waiting to see if she’d say any more- she didn’t- turned away and walked the rest of the way to his bed.

He walked through the curtain and took a large gulp of water before setting the glass down and burrowing under the blanket. Well aware he was quite literally in a murder dungeon with incredibly dangerous people, he was nonetheless too tired and too grateful to be alive to worry about being unconscious there. It took him no time at all to fall deeply asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misery by Stephen King is a) one of my favourite horror novels and b) about a man held captive by a woman who ends up having his foot amputated. Amanda likes to think she's clever- pity Adam didn't get the reference. Also- if you have any feedback/constructive criticism/anything at all you want to say, comments keep me going and I treasure them! :D


	3. Even Killers Need to Eat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to hatchet and Jemi for all your help and encouragement!!! You guys are wonderful. I also fully recognise that this is just complete nonsense at this point. I'm embracing it.

“Fucking wake up, sleeping beauty! Time to go.”

A deafening clanging sound shocked Adam awake. He found Amanda standing above him and looking far too happy with herself as she hit the metal frame of his curtain with a rusty hammer.

“Jesus fucking Christ, what's going-?!”

She rolled her eyes. “Don't look so scared. I have to go grocery shopping and you're coming too.”

“...Grocery shopping.”

“Yes.”

Adam stared blankly for a moment, Amanda sighed, irritated.

“What? Even killers need to eat!”

“...I thought you said you aren't-”

“We’re _not._ But we're buying food for Hoffman too. Unfortunately. Now come on.”

Adam sat up, yawning. “Why am I involved in this?” He said, but then saw an opportunity: buying food meant a grocery store, and a grocery store meant _outside._

He leapt up; Amanda studied him. “Well, we need to get you new clothes for one thing. And hair… stuff. Whatever you use. You need it.” 

“Wow, thanks, I think your hair’s wonderful too-” 

“Fuck me, you’re annoying. Anyway. For the time being you can borrow this-” A greyish hoodie was chucked at him, large and musty-smelling- “and this.” A black baseball cap hit him in the chest and then fell to the floor; he bent to pick it up. “They're both John’s, but he said you can borrow them for today, until we get you new stuff.”

Adam studied the baseball cap in disbelief- the idea of John wearing this hat was so blatantly ridiculous he almost wanted to laugh. “This doesn't really seem like his style-” 

“Just put it on and shut up. He also wore it once to try and hide his identity, so it's perfect.”

Well, that wasn’t too concerning. He sighed, shrugged the hoodie on and pulled the hat over his admittedly disgusting hair. “Sure. Great. Wonderful. Can I say goodbye to Lawrence before we go?” 

“Do want you want, just don't take too long.”

Adam nodded gratefully, then made his way to Lawrence’s room. There had been no change in his condition overnight- still unconscious and unresponsive- and Adam’s heart ached at seeing him so vulnerable.

“Hey, Larry.” He began, sinking into the old desk chair. “Good morning! Don't know if anyone's told you it _is_ morning yet, but it is. Do you sleep, when you’re in a coma? Or is it like being asleep all the time? Don't know why I asked that, you can't answer. Remind me to ask you when you wake up.” He refused to say ‘ _if’._ Lawrence would be fine. He had to be. “Look-” And here Adam's voice became a hiss- “Amanda's taking me outside, for grocery shopping of all fucking things, and no I'm not joking. This could be my chance! I could run, call the cops, expose the whole fucking- oh. Shit.” 

Adam looked down at the possibly oblivious man below him, weak and pale. He couldn't leave him. If he tried to make a break for it now, Lawrence wouldn't be with him- Lawrence would be stuck. 

“...Shit. Shit. Okay. Fuck, I _can't_ do that, can I- you'll still be here. Jesus. Um. I'll-” 

“You'll what?” 

Amanda appeared suddenly, and Adam jumped, already turning red with guilt as he whipped round to face her, heart racing. “Nothing! Just, I said I'll- I'll see him. When I get back. Don't want him to- to think I'm going forever. Didn't want him to be scared.” His improv teacher in high school would have been ashamed.

Amazingly, Amanda seemed to buy it. “That's very cute, Adam, really sweet,” she said, and Adam got the distinct impression he was being mocked. 

“Well, you know, I try to be a good friend. When I have friends.” 

“Sure. And so do I.” For the third time that morning, he had items of clothing thrown at him- this time a pair of worn and muddy sneakers. “Put those on, we need to _go._ ” 

Adam got the message. He pulled the trainers on, and then waited until Amanda had left the room before turning back to Lawrence. Before he too left, he whispered four short words, and he meant them:

“I won't leave you.”

 

* * *

 

“It’s sunny,” he said, honestly surprised. And then: “I’m going to be too hot in this.” 

Amanda laughed shortly, and then replied: “Yeah- but you’re also not going to be spotted, recognised as a missing person, and ruin the entire operation. Speaking of- I _really_ don’t want to threaten you, cause you seem nice. But. If you try to get away- which, again, you seem nice, really hope you don’t- I can’t guarantee Dr Gordon’s safety.”

All of a sudden, Adam felt cold. “Fucking h-!” 

“That’s not me saying I’ll hurt him! I don’t _want_ to hurt him. I’ll try my best not to. But, I mean, Hoffman can be volatile-”

“Amanda.” 

She flinched just a little, then turned to face him. “I really do _not_ want to hurt him,” she said, eyes pleading, and the crazy thing was that Adam believed her. “It’s just… something to bear in mind.”

For better, or worse, he was actually starting to trust her. “...Okay. Where are we going?”

“Van’s over here,” Amanda said, sounding relieved as she began to walk away from Adam, around the corner of the building. He had no choice but to follow.

He'd taken careful note of the way they'd exited the building- both the main door and the padlocked mesh fence and what keys opened them both. He wasn't planning to try and run away- yet. Like Amanda had said: it was just something to bear in mind. 

He found her leaning against one door of an old panel van, the once-deep blue paint faded. She perked up once she saw him, eyes lighting up. “You coming, or what?” she asked, and pulled the door open. 

He pulled himself up into the van’s passenger seat, not surprised to find the interior of it frayed and dusty- a sea of grey plastic and cheap fabric. In the back, a handful of nails and a wrench were strewn over the floor, all of them dull, the nails in particular covered in rust.

“Hey, so, Jig- John.” Adam began, as Amanda turned on the engine. “...Does he have some kind of rust fetish?”

Amanda smirked. “No, and that's probably something you should never mention again.”

“Why?” 

“He'd think it was rude. You don't want to anger him, trust me.” 

“...Again, if you're trying to convince me you're not murderers you're doing a pretty shit job-”

“Shut _up.”_ Amanda replied, but she was smiling.

They drove a short but twisting route through nothing but grey concrete and graffiti, and Adam was reminded of just how much he didn't like this city. Driving into the Target parking lot, he was shocked to see other people just… walking around. Living their lives. Unaware of or unconcerned about the threat of Jigsaw and his traps; not appreciating how lucky they were. Something about it all chilled him, and so he looked over at Amanda, who was too busy being irritated to worry about anything like that.

“How can there be _nowhere_ to park?” She growled, driving them around the parking lot in circular patterns.

It was bizarre and yet oddly refreshing to see her get annoyed about something as normal as a lack of parking spaces, even if Adam was terrified that she was going to pull a weapon on an unsuspecting member of the public. Or several.  

“Amanda-”

“Shut _up_ Adam-” 

“No, listen- please don’t pull a, a machete on them. Or something.”

She managed to roll her eyes at him without looking over, which he honestly found impressive. “I don’t have a machete in the van, idiot. Just a few knives.”

“Christ. And you were worried that someone seeing _me_ here would lead to us being arrested.”

“It might, still. Families and search parties and all that shit.” 

“Ha. As if.” He hadn’t meant to sound bitter, but then thought that when it came to this topic, he was allowed to be.

“What do you..?” 

“I, uh, don’t really talk to my family. Ever. It’s- it’s a whole thing.” 

“That- hold that thought.” With a grin that was both triumphant and slightly psychotic, Amanda swerved into a parking space and then turned off the engine. “Finally. So. Want to buy some shit and talk about it?”

 

* * *

 

Adam pushed the shopping cart and spilled his life story, wondering where his self preservation instincts had gone all the while.

“So my parents were- still are, I guess- incredibly traditional, right? Mom’s a cake decorator, Dad’s a high school sports coach, my older brother Josh ended up being this huge baseball star, you might have heard of him.”

“I don’t follow sports. Never interested me.” 

“Right? Exactly! It’s boring as shit! And that was the problem at first- I just couldn’t relate to either of them. I wanted to be creative, to make stuff. Writing didn’t work for me, acting was fun but I was never any good at it, art was closer but I was also shit at _that._ And then I found photography and it was just like… this is what I’m supposed to do, y’know? It felt right, and I was actually good at it. My parents tried to sound enthusiastic, but I could tell they thought it was a complete waste of time- kept suggesting more “secure” jobs.”

“So why’d you stop talking to them?”

“Huh?” 

“That’s just parents being dicks- I could understand only seeing them at Thanksgiving or whatever, but never talking to them? Bit extreme.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m getting there. So. While all that was going on, I’d been with this one girl for a couple of years, and she was sweet but it wasn’t really going anywhere, so I broke it off. Then the following... saturday I think it was, I had my best friend over; his name was James. We were just sitting when out of nowhere he just kissed me and said he’d wanted to for a while. I wasn’t freaked out, then I was sort of freaked out that I wasn’t freaked out, if that makes any sense, so I kissed him back to try and sort out how I felt and that, I shit you not, is how I found out that I’m bi.” 

Amanda laughed out loud. “No way. You had _no idea_?” 

“Not really- I think I literally thought every guy was into other guys as well and just, I don’t know, never said anything.” He still had no idea why he was telling her any of this, besides the fact that she was the first person who’d bothered to listen in- fucking hell, probably years. 

“I knew I liked girls pretty much from birth,” she replied conversationally. And then: “Do you want any more breakfast stuff or is that good?” 

Adam glanced down briefly into the shopping cart and surveyed the contents, trying not to let the absurdity of the situation get to him. “Erm. I was always a pretty big fan of pop tarts?”

Amanda snorted. “Of course you are.” she said, as she dropped a box into the cart.

Adam shot her a grin, and then continued: “So, anyway… I'm straight up making out with this guy when my mom comes in- don't know what she wanted, or why she didn't knock- and she sees us, and literally screams like she's seen me being stabbed or something.”

“Oh _god._ ”

“Yeah. My dad yelled at me about ‘ruining the family's reputation’ and ‘going against god’ and shit and they slightly kicked me out of the house after that- gave me some money, so that was kind of nice, but still. It was… bad. I was eighteen.”

“That fucking sucks.”

“I've mostly forgiven them-” 

“Want me to build them a trap?”

Adam looked over at Amanda, thinking she was joking. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the handle of the shopping cart and there was no trace of mirth in her eyes, and all at once it hit him that she was serious- totally and completely serious. One word from him and she would probably have his parents kidnapped, plans drawn up and whatever hideous torture device she thought would fit engineered and ready to go before he could say the rest of the sentence. He wasn't sure he'd ever had someone so wholly on his side before, and whatever he'd had to go through to get to this point, he was suddenly glad to have met Amanda, however insane that would likely sound to everyone else. 

“No,” he said, softly, “but thanks.”

Amanda smiled in response, and after a moment of silence, shoved her arm through Adam’s, clumsy but endearing. “Come on- we’ll get champagne or some shit, drink it as a fuck you to your shitty parents.” 

“We can afford champagne?” 

“Fuck yeah- whatever you want. John always gives me too much money for food. I normally use it to buy energy drinks-”

“Wow, Amanda. Just wow.”

She broke their linked arms to elbow him in the ribs, then started to drag him towards another part of the store. “Fancy alcohol shopping later though- now it’s time for clothes shopping.”

“Fucking hell.”

 

* * *

 

She’d genuinely bought champagne, because of course she had.

Adam helped her pull bags of food and clothes from the van to what he was still calling the lair, and that was when he saw the bottle. “Wow, I really didn’t think you were serious.”

“Course I was. You should hang up your shit before we drink anything though.”

“Sure, will do.”

“Extra hangers are beside my bed!”

Adam took her advice, and carried everything over to his corner to be hung up on the inside of that huge metal bookcase… thing. Amanda had left him to pick out clothes for himself- which he’d thought was a pretty incredible show of trust, all things considered- and, refusing to wear either a white t-shirt or a striped blue shirt for the foreseeable future, he’d gone for a few t-shirts in dark, jewel-toned reds and blues and greens. Adding to those a pair of sweatpants, a black hoodie, basic sneakers, light blue pajamas (to match Amanda’s blanket) and two pairs of actually nice jeans, he thought he had a good amount of clothing to get him through however long it took him and Lawrence to actually escape.

Once he’d hung up almost everything, he found himself needing one more hanger for a lone red t-shirt. As he walked over to Amanda’s tiny bedroom, he immediately noticed she had something incredibly similar in her arms: she’d picked out a red t-shirt too.

“Oh my god, look, Amanda, we’re gonna match!”

She looked over at him spied his choice of shirt, smiling in response. “Good choice- it’ll look great under your cloak once I’ve made it.”

He didn’t know what to say to that; was she so certain he’d want to stick around? He almost felt bad as he realised that, yeah, she probably was. He settled for a safe: “I didn’t know you could sew.”

“Yeah! John taught me. He’s taught me a lot.” She looked away for a second, smiling softly, before she suddenly grinned and chucked a hanger at him. It narrowly missed his head, and he bent to pick it up. “Anyway- hurry the fuck up! We have overpriced alcohol to drink.”

He rolled his eyes, but did as she said, hanging up that last t-shirt before making his way to the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Amanda poured the champagne into old, chipped mugs with a flourish and, before they drank, raised hers in the air.

“To Adam’s shitty parents- he’s much fucking happier without you!” She stook a huge swig from her mug, and he followed suit. This was when he discovered- having never had it before- that he really wasn’t a fan of champagne.

“Ugh! I’d always thought that would be way better.”

“You’ve never had it before?”

“Do I look like someone who can afford champagne?”

“Well, you can now!” She downed the rest of hers, as he watched on in amazement. “You’re right though, it’s not good.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “What if I put in some Red Bull…”

“Amanda, no!” Adam laughed. “That would be fucking disgusting-”

“...Hello?”

They both froze as a weak but audible call echoed throughout the lair.

“Holy shit,” Amanda began, “Is that-”

“Lawrence.” Adam whispered. He placed his mug on the counter shakily, and met Amanda’s eyes. “He’s- he’s awake!”

Amanda grinned. “Told you he’d be okay!”

Before he even knew what he was doing, Adam was sprinting out of the kitchen and through that curtain of plastic strips to where Lawrence lay, finally, _finally_ awake. For the first time since Lawrence had crawled out of that godforsaken bathroom, their eyes met, and Adam was overjoyed to see Lawrence smile, with genuine fucking tears in his eyes, as they did.

“Adam!”

" _Lawrence!_ "

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the outfit Amanda has Adam wear is meant to be the Look John rocks in Saw 3D, and yes, her barely mentioned 'red t-shirt' is meant to be the iconic one from III. The van I gave them is entirely my own invention; it's never actually shown what they all use to get around so I just made it up. Also- Adam's outfit isn't the last obscure reference to Saw 3D you're going to get... not sure if that's an incentive to keep reading or not (I'm having far too much fun with this) :'D


End file.
